For A Laugh

for a laugh

harsh soup is laid softly on placemats, dish towels, band posters

cranked from a multi-storey video game

as peak eye-contact with the robot grimes tits

which since God and time were born

levitated in lab coats

(the tits have)

shooting carcasses moving through the metro afterworld

from an inside-out Mazda

dolphin cum turns wine into a jaded, lab-grown flavor

gotten via drainage – for a laugh

in turn derived from an incision in the head

(laughter also happens) at the threat of WEEDS SPROUTING

after shaving my balls in the Transporter Room

abhorrent shaved-looking nano-elephants cloned 360 degrees

the Supreme Lie resembling a driveby urinal-spill

front door hemorrhoids and small-town steam

this cat feels real – when it scalds when it shits

because don't shit

Slayer

pee

Slayer

although

since when when novelty mugwort thwarts the 3D-printed ghost do I get pissed?

and do pee?

anyway, where's the shithole on this UFO

at the séance earlier I was prevented from whacking it

BY SHITHEADS

dead sac I may not disgustedly high-five apparently!?

and what of the sumptuous tides

of corpse-to-corpse blood transfusion?

this shit is air to the living

but air guitar to the dead

hybrid tongue becomes meatier blade runner

(“LOOK AT MY BARBED CROTCH”)

as sand runs form dong-nostril

onto placemats, dish towels, band posters

for a laugh

as mentioned on fortune cookie overleaf

something

(“AIEEEEEEEE”)

mm-hmm

something had infused the spooky vibrator

sticking out non-sticky (but barbed)

(a flopping harassment) sadly gooping in non-shiny butt

Star Trek particle-spray like a mosaic death

curio chic owl foreskin (its blanketing time-travel) (ungh)

lifting Kirk's breakfast mullet

with a long-nailed Grand Guignol

and because of their Martian metabolism

tomatoes are great heat keepers!